Love Lost, Guarded by a Dragon
by happymelon
Summary: Jack is beginning to slip into depression, until he reaches a state of nothingness. His once hero is now nothing to him even though he's finally reazlizing his potential. Chack, T for now, soon to change.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jack rubbed his eyes, wiping away the sleep that invaded his subconscious, and the gunk that clouded his vision and glued his eyelids together, probably the eyeliner he never took off. He glanced momentarily at the red glowing alarm clock whose ruby light annoyed Jack to no end, unceasingly reminding him of his insomniatic tendencies. He sighed, _Great, four twenty-five, that's a whole two hours of sleep, yay for me._ Yawning, he stretched his still sleeping muscles, and pushed away from his computer, eyes closed, sliding across the floor smoothly on his wheeled chair.

"Jack-bots, get me some coffee and the newspaper, and then get me files NM 13 through NM 24." Jack watched with little interest as his robotic servants flew away to fill their commands. Looking down at his black smudged, he scowled slightly. "And a wet towel." Jack scratched his head, ruffling his crimson hair, and looked at the giant brightly light computer screen, quickly forgetting his little dilemma. _What was I working on last night again…_Squinting his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden bright light, Jack focused on the infuriatingly brilliant radiance of the monitor, ignoring the way it temporarily blinded him and made his eyes water. In an instant, all the bleariness that fogged his mind disappeared, and was replaced by burning fury that heated his cheeks in an honest anger that he seldom felt. Reading the e-mail on the screen made the resentment in him flare, and blood boil. He felt his hands ball into fists, shaking with the force they were clenched.

_Dear Son, As I am sure you know, your mother and I love you very much, but as the business grows, all eyes become trained on our family, as a whole, rather than simply me and my professional business affairs. While I am, and always have been proud of you, it has come to my attention that you are a blatant embarrassment to the name Spicer. It is for that reason we are legally placing you under your own jurisdiction. I believe you are deemed mature enough that you can live without the aid of your mother and me. You may still use the name Spicer, but if asked, you will say that you are unassociated with Spicer Industries. Monthly checks will always be sent, and it will be more than enough for you to live with all the luxuries you are accustomed to, and there will be approximately seven times more money than you currently spend, accompanied by your private trust fund, you will be quite fine. We will always love you, Mr./Mrs. Spicer _

Salt water leaked out of Jack's eyes, which he quickly scrubbed away, further smearing the inky material and irritating his eyes even more. He glared at the computer screen past the haze of tears, as if it was its fault that his father was such a hard-ass. And the fact that message itself sounded so…disconnected, like an underpaid, overworked assistance with minimal emotional range had written it so he could finally leave the office after a thirty hour day. He sniffed shakily, a catch in his breath pulled his lungs. Jack had always slightly anticipated a betrayal like this from his father, but the treachery of his mother was what truly painful for him. The mother that had doted him, loved him, held him when he cried, rejoiced with him when he invented. His angry train of thought-albeit tinged with a reflection of happier times -was interrupted as his base began flashing red, startling him out of his reverie. The webpage disappeared, and was replaced by a Shen Gong Wu warning. A loud whine of a siren made him wince and cover his delicate ears, with minimal helpfulness. Sighing, the red head paced to the keyboard, removing his hands long enough to tap a few keys, calming the base, and removing the warning from the display.

"Cancel my previous request, Jack-bots, let's go!" Thinking about it, he refined the command. "Except the wet towel, I'll still need that." The albino activated his heli-pack, flying with little grace out of the opening in his ceiling. Looking at his computerized watch, he read the coordinates out loud, trying to remember where exactly it was, he'd already memorized every continent, state, city, and every basic geographic term that he would possibly need to navigate. A single Jackbot flew ahead of the pack, handing his master the moist paper.

He muttered a quick thanks, before taking it and scoured his face of the offending black, that had begun to run ink rivers down his face. Finally satisfied with his cleaning, he tossed it back to one of the bots, not bothering to look back to see if there was one to receive it, the things were biodegradable, it wasn't going to kill a baby seal, or whatever wasted paper did.

_I don't want to do this today…I don't want to get pounded into the ground and laughed at… I don't wanna be called useless, like always._ Making a hard left, jerking his body at an uncomfortable angle that did nothing for his already sore body, he continued on his skyward path, watching the scenery roll by beneath him. But it provided little distraction, and his mind started wandering. No, he didn't want to be called useless, but there was a ninety-five percent chance he would be, by the very person he respected most. Thinking of the long haired warrior made Jack sigh hopelessly, like a love sick school girl who fell in love with the bad boy whose sole purpose in life was to ruin the lives of all those around him. Gods, he was a bastard. And rude. Mean. Harsh beyond human recognition. But he made evil an art. A perfectly balanced act of truth and deception where he danced on the fine line of evil and cruelty, often treading on both sides with little concern of who it affected.

The red head was snapped out of his daydream when he heard a familiar, high pitched voice, making him come to a screeching halt in midair.

"You are soon to be buried, Jack Spicer!" A short, bald monk shouted and pointed to Jacks hovering form, waving the raised arm erratically, like he was trying to bat away the non-existent flies that threatened to tread upon his sacred little head. Evidently, the short boy had decided to forego the pleasantries of even a hello. It seemed the effects of early dawn were nonexistent on the monk, and he retained his usual youthful vigor.

"Uhhh…yeah, I think he's trying to say you're going down…" A messy haired Brazilian scratched his brown head, looking slightly confused with a lopsided grin hanging on his darkly tanned face, while green eyes gleamed with playful mischief. But it was obvious he was tired, as he stifled a yawn. Evidently, the boy wasn't an early bird.

"Yes and that too!" Omi continued pointing and looking and waving at Jack, though there was little malice in his high pitched voice. His tiny body was red robe-clad, as always, and his head cast a sunlit gleam that highlighted the odd pattern of dots on his forehead.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, I honestly don't care Xiaolin losers, can we please just get this over with?" Jack landed on the ground-without stumbling he was proud to note-retracting his helipad into his backpack. He flexed his shoulders, trying to work the usual kinks out that often accompanied his brief trips through the air. Flying was never too comfortable, and coupled with the fact that he'd spent the night hunched over a giant keyboard, his back and shoulders were beginning to protest against their unusually rough treatment. It was moments like these that Jack wished he would spend money on the luxury of a chiropractor rather than new machine parts…then again, he _could_ just build one…_Ugh, no, getting side-tracked. Wu now, wellbeing later._

"What, the unceasingly annoying Spicer-vermin doesn't want to play villain today." A cold, mocking voice leaked out from the shadows. A black haired, armor clad Hay-Lin warrior strode out smoothly. With his olive toned skin, and long hair, it was unmistakable who he was, though it was doubtful anyone would forget him after even just one encounter. On his face was plastered a mocking grin, exposing abnormally large canines hanging threateningly from his top row of teeth, and his slitted, reptilian yellow eyes held a predatory need for blood and violence.

"C-Chase, hey I, uh… you know what, never mind." Jack clamped his jaw firmly shut. He wasn't in the mood for the usual game of insult Chase always decided to play with him, maybe just shutting up would spare him the typical emotional abuse. _Earplugs, gotta put that on the list of things to build next…super earplugs…_

Chase cocked an eyebrow. This was unusual. No fanboy-ish demure, no declarations of undying devotion, no begging to be tutored in the way to true evil, nothing. Narrowing his eyes fractionally, Chase carefully took in the sight of the peculiarly uncharacteristic Jack. The boy looked terribly fatigued, his eyes rimmed heavily with dark circles that weren't attributed to his choice in makeup, and they looked puffy like he'd been crying. He seemed to have gone without his signature black eyeliner today…morning. His alabaster skin had taken on a sickly hue more gray than glowing white, though his cheeks had a pink hue, as if they'd been slapped, or maybe rubbed raw. Mahogany hair, habitually gelled to perfection, fell limp around his thin face. A tongue darted out constantly to wet dry, chapped lips. And every move he made was accentuated with a crack of unused bone, or the smallest wince. Overall, the youth had fallen pathetically out of health.

"Let us get his play to the street!" Chase's attention was redirected to the voice of the tiny monk, who proceeded to point and yell at the swaying form of Jack.

"Wow, that one's pretty tough…um, I'm gonna say, get this show on the road. But it's open to debate."

"And that as well! I challenge Jack Spicer and Chase Young to a Xiaolin Showdown, I wager my Orb against Jack's Monkey Staff, and Chase's Two Ton Tunic."

"Hey, wait, Xiaolin los-…uh, monk, what Shen Gong Wu is this anyway?" Jack reserved the question of how the little cue-ball monk knew what Wu her currently had for later. Anyway, there was a little voice inside him saying he really didn't want to know.

"It is the Raya-Clip, now, let the festivities begin!"

"Geez Omi, you just never stop, okay, that one was, let's get this party started."

"Why on earth would I want to have a party right now? Really Raimundo, at times, your tom-foolery is so foolish, now, let us begin, Xiaolin Showdown!"

Without the consent of either Chase or Jack, Omi lifted his Orb of Tsunami above his head and water gushed out in a thick jet. The field began shifting; Omi, Jack, and Chase were being lifted on thin platforms, while the sleepy looking Clay, Raimundo, and Kimiko had a miniature island devoted to themselves. Water filled the space in-between them, and stone tablets lifted into the air, water spilling over the sides. The smooth stone glistened in the warm afternoon sun, and the water cast light in every direction, distorting it and making small rainbows appear everywhere. Finally, the water stopped rising, though mysterious waterfalls that seemed to have no origin persistently rained water around the unmoving monks. Jack was trying to keep his balance on the uneven stone, while Chase and Omi remained stationary, perfectly at ease on the irregularly tilting ground.

Experimentally, Jack leaned to one side, and the platform tilted as his weight was displaced, not a dangerous dip, but a gentle roll that gave him enough time to right his form before falling to the murky depths below. _Okay, maybe I can do this. _He looked around, searching for a Shen Gong Wu he'd never even seen before. Finally, his eyes rested on the highest point of the field, a good fifty yards up, hovering in the air. From this angle, he couldn't see anything aside from the underbelly of the slab, but judging by the way the two other warrior were making their way up , it was fairly obvious that that was his destination. He looked around, and saw a floating block near him; he jumped, skidding on the slick stone, nearly falling, but the grip on his shoes preventing him from doing so.

"Better watch your step Spicer, god knows how much we'd miss you if you were to meet your untimely demise. And what would any of us do without the brilliance that is your mind?" Heavy sarcasm was laced in Chase's voice, mocking the Goth teen.

And with that sentence, something in Jack snapped. A combination of anger, sadness, sleeplessness, and hunger was built up within him, and it all decided to burst out then. No longer caring for his own safety, Jack jumped from platform to platform. He crept higher into the air, spinning on his toes occasionally to better position himself for another leap, maneuvering and contorting his body to suit his needs. _One good thing Mom did for me, ballet…_Running across a particularly long strip, he jumped early, missing the next slab completely. But, oddly enough, in his state of anger, his strategic nature came out, he calmly reached out a gloved hand, catching the edge, and swinging underneath, releasing it when he'd made a complete swing forward, spun in the air, and landed lightly, not so much as stumbling when finally upright.

"Geez, when did Jack get so…not sucky?" Kimiko stared, wide-eyed, at the still moving Jack, and watched, in an emotion between wonder and horror, as Jack neared Omi and Chase. Her rainbow colored fingers twitched as if she was going to jump in at any moment, with neither weapon or plan of action.

"Well, guess that partner ain't such a varmint after all." Adjusting his hat, Clay stared up at the suddenly nimble red head, twiddling his bandana in leather gloved hands absent mindedly. He watched passively, blue eyes at half mast due to sleep deprivation.

Jack could finally see two figures ahead of him and his acrobatics became even more frenzied. Now, there were no pauses in his bounds, and his momentum often made his landings very precarious, often teetering just on the verge of falling off the edge.

Glancing over, Chase nearly stopped to stare at what he saw. There was the loud, annoying, un-athletic albino boy, who's ability to completely ruin any good plan was unmatched, gracefully maneuvering his body through the air with all the elegance of a trained acrobat. And the look of intense concentration mixed with livid anger was so well suited for his face, an expression that lacked his usual timidity and made him glow with an obviously burning rage.

Jack was finally near his goal, he didn't even glance at his personal hero and the little cue-ball as he passed by them, at one point even landing on the same platform as Chase, though even then, he blatantly ignored the man. His sole focus was the Wu that was practically at his fingertips. As he neared the top, an errant thought passed through his head, _Hmmm…wonder where Wu-Ya went, usually she's fawning over Chase…or trying to kill him._ He was surprised when he realized he landed on a sturdy, unmoving surface. Looking down, he saw what looked like a hair clip with a flower curling around the ribs, wrapping around the whole thing almost sensually. Bending down, he picked it up, and held it up to the light, watching as it shined as it caught the morning light that was just beginning to creep onto the horizon._ Huh, not really as amazing as I thought it'd be I kinda expected something didn't look like my little cousin would wear_…But he'd definitely gabbed the Wu, because the environment was already changing back to how it'd previously been. But as Chase and Omi were lowered, Jack's platform remained hovering. Every warrior, Hay-Lin and Xiaolin alike, was staring at Jack, most of the looks incredulous, and…full of pride? He looked at the Wu and shrugged, tossing it over the edge, to the startled faces of the monks. He just couldn't find it in himself to care about something that suddenly had no value, emotional or otherwise.

He heard a cackle behind him, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over the field.

"Not the person I'd ever expected, but a thorn in my side none the less, good-bye Jack."

He felt a forceful push, accentuated with long, sharp nails that dug into his back without mercy or care, and Jack was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first thing Jack thought about was the explosive pain that bloomed beautifully in his chest. Sensitive eye's remaining closed, and he moved ever so slightly to the left, wincing in pain at the feeling the simple act caused. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, _that's a broken rib…or two_. He lifted the covers, and saw tightly wrapped bandages around him. He didn't see his trademark trench coat, or feel the hard press of plastic on his head that was his goggles, but he decided he had slightly bigger, slightly more painful matters to attend to at the moment. He noticed that left side had a small circle of blood towards the bottom that cracked sickeningly with every movement he made. Examining the rest of his body briefly, Jack found a short gash on his forearm, his ankle splinted, and a whole rainbow of bruises adorning his body. Sitting there for a few moments, Jack got bored and swung his legs around the side of his bed, testing his injured ankle and hissing at the tenderness of the injured flesh. _Wonder who brought me back…probably just a Jack-Bot. _Thinking about it, Jack laughed at himself lightly for having thought otherwise. After all, who'd actually give a damn about him, the worthless wonder? The goody-goody monks didn't even know his place of residence, so his theory seemed sound.

Finding that the foot wasn't especially in pain after the first few waves of ache, he got up, stretching his thin limbs, surprised when the action didn't bring a new bought of fresh soreness. He looked around his seldom used room, trying to distract himself in the hopes that his pain would dim if he didn't focus on it. It was neat and tidy only because he was almost never there, choosing to spend all his time in the lab, or in other countries. Anyway, looking at the bed-along with nearly everything else in the room-always sent a flare of resentment coursing through his blood. It was one his father had gotten for him almost five years ago, when he was ten. That had possibly been the most recent time Spicer Junior and Senior had spent time together and had exchanged more words than detached grunts and nods. Glaring hatefully at the piece of furniture gave him the urge to grab an axe, but he resisted, deciding he'd just use it as firewood at a later date.

"What are you doing out of bed Spicer? Even an idiot like you should realize bed rest is what is most needed now." Jack whipped his head to the side, to the open door way, to see Chase, leaning casually against his doorframe, muscled arms crossed and a single black eyebrow raised.

"What are-why are-…WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?" Jack was shaking furiously, was he safe no where? His timidity was briefly abandoned to make room for an unexplainable anger that had began to build in the pit of his stomach for far too long. But, as the chill of indifference settled over Jack, he realized glaring daggers at one of the most powerful creatures he'd ever encountered was probably not one of the best ideas. He knew he was gonna get it now, verbally and physically, but he honestly didn't care, this was his house, his only place where bad memories were almost non-existent, this room aside. So he straightened and raised his chin defiantly, ready to take anything the man decided to throw-proverbial or otherwise-at him.

But Chase didn't yell. He didn't try to attack the thin, pale boy. He only quirked the raised eyebrow in surprise and a dark humor, and smiled, exposing threatening looking canines. He raked his eye over Jack's form. He was wearing an oversized black tee-shirt, that covered the tiny shorts, making it look like a tunic. He was too thin for his age, and his eyes were too tired to be those of a youth, like he'd seen many years of life in a very short span of time. He looked small and dainty and frail but, at the moment at least, there was a fire in his eyes that burned more brightly than his hair.

"That, Spic-Jack, is no way to thank the person who took precious time to escort you home." Chase was now walking toward Jack slowly, steps slow and measured, and in no way hostile. "I also spared a moment for this." Chase tossed something small and long to Jack. The red head caught it and examined the pronged object in his hand with minute curiosity. Nearly dropping it, he realized it was the Raya Clip Wu he'd thrown away, then followed to the ground a few mere seconds later. _Thank you Wuya_, he cursed mentally. He'd think of a way to make her life hell later.

"I…why'd you…when'd…uhhh, look as terribly…_sweet_ that you decided to get this back for me, but I gave it to the Xiaolin losers for a reason, I honestly just…don't care anymore. The fact that I even got it," Jacks voice had now lowered considerably, and he was talking in a mere hiss of a whisper, "Makes me feel at least the tiniest little bit like my life isn't totally worthless." Jack scratched is fiery hair, looking down, examining every scuff on the unusually unblemished floor. Biting his lip, he immediately felt embarrassment for his previous outburst, and his admittance of his pessimistic view on his life. Thinking about it, he really regretted it, mostly because that would instantly give the Hay-Lin warrior more hate fuel. _Great,_ he thought bitterly, _here it comes, damn it, there is now way he's ever going to let me live this one down._

"Every life is worthless, your, mine, all Hay-Lin and Xiaolin monks and warriors. From the most recognized of icons to the lowest of worms, all life, ultimately, serves no purpose, in the end most of us all suffer the same fate." Chase spoke with a morbid truth that was essentially unflawed, he was sure there was _someone_ whose life had a purpose and meaning, but otherwise, most were only wandering souls, caught up in the their fleeting lives, having no concern for the world, or people around them, only having a clever façade of giving a damn. "So, in reality, the fact that you realize this exemplifies that you are very…" Chase furrowed his brow, searching for a word that accurately described the boy's behavior, "Mature."

Jack looked slightly confused, trying to wrap his head around the concept, and then gasped when he made a sudden shocking realization that changed how he saw everything.

"You just gave me a compliment!" Revising what Chase said in his mind, Jack cocked his head like a curious pup. "Sorta…a bit, but still!"

"No, Jack, I did not give you a _compliment_ I merely gave you a non-insulting comment."

"Well yeah, but yo-" Jack had taken a step forward in his eagerness, only to topple forward, pain lacing up his leg. _Mental note, standing/walking: not a good idea…_

Acting swiftly, Chase dove forward, sliding his body between Jack and the floor. His arms wrapped delicately across Jacks thin back, keeping the boy from jarring. The black haired man landed gracefully on his back, Jack on top of him.

Hissing in pain, Jack sat up, eyes watering slightly. "O-ow…sorry Chase." Looking down and blinking the salt water from his eyes, Jack's face instantly became nearly as vivid a red as his hair. Chase was lying on the floor, on his back, his hair splayed behind his head like a dark halo, and Jack was straddling his waist, hands on his well toned chest, noses mere inches apart.

Something in Chase growled possessively, and he reached up to gently brushed away a lock of Jack's un- gelled hair. As his fingertips ghosted over Jack's flushed skin, the usually pale boy's eyes widened in surprise. Reaching another gloved hand up, Chase eased the Raya Clip Wu out of Jack's hand, only to weave it into the flaming locks of the boy.

"Sleep, Jack, and dream. Of things more pleasant than this world has to offer. Sleep and heal, Jack. Sleep and forget…" Chases warm breath blew across the rosy cheeks of the albino. It had mellow, earthy undertones, but also a spiciness that, when combined, was an agent that helped to usher him into his dream lands. And his voice! Such a smooth richness that could only be spoken by one who has seen and experienced everything twice. His warm golden brown-Jack never noticed what a rich chocolate color they were-seemed to hypnotize him, and he couldn't look away from the glowing orbs. Combined with the warm, tender embrace he was locked in, Jack stood no chance. His eyes slide closed, long lashes coming to rest on his cheek, and a peaceful sigh parted his lips. He didn't understand what suddenly came over him, but he lowered his head to the crook of the man's warm neck. Vaguely, he pondered why Chase would even care about him, but he was too overtaken with the swells of sleep that were building inside of him. Within a span of two minutes, Jack was already murmuring nonsense.

***

_Ugh…hot…bright…can't breathe…_Squinting his unopened eyes, Jack shrugged away from the irritation of a light whose constant stream was becoming a major annoyance. Moving away from something you can't actually see proved to be more difficult than he'd thought, and soon his covers were wrapping themselves around him, squeezing and hugging his body, and making the heat that much more unbearable. Blinking his way to awareness, he struggled out of the blankets cruel grip. Many grunts, rolls, moans and a lot of sweating later, Jack finally sat next to his bed, glaring hatefully at the powder blue cloth, how dare it make an attempt on his life! Kicking it away he stood, only to falter slightly when he was met with a miniscule prick of pain in his leg.

_Oh yeah, Chase told me not to stand…Wait, Chase?_ Jack searched the room for the tall man, but found himself to be alone. _Heh, dream…of course it was, it's not like Chase would actually care…_The scarlet headed teen didn't linger too long on thoughts of the warrior, but instead focused on trying to make his way to the door. Looking down to check his bandages again, lifting his shirt up to look at his stomach, he noticed the smudge of blood nowhere to be found. _Evidently I dreamed that too…Man, why did I make that door so damn far away…_After hobbling for only a few seconds the albino paused and scratched his head, biting the inside of his cheek and rolling the soft tissue momentarily.

"Hey Jack-Bot's!" He yelled, hands cupped around his mouth, "Serial number JB-18, come get me!" Taking a ginger seat on the floor, taking extra care to avoid using his bum leg, he waited for the sound of the jets and clink of whirring parts. Resting on his elbows, he once again examined the wrapping that mummified parts of his body. _Hmmm, nice material, real soft, man, bandage industry must make a killing off these_. After only a minutes wait, Jack heard the metallic clank of one of his creations. "Geez, took you long enough. What if I'd been on fire, huh? What then? It would be your fault that I was dead, and what would you do then?" Rising wobbly, he looked at the door, but it remained unoccupied. "I was kidding, Jack-Bot, you are amazing, I love you."

"Thank you for the sentiment Jack, though I'm not sure the feeling is mutual." Hearing that voice made Jack's eye twitch. _No way, just…no friggin' way…_"And as for your 'Jack-Bot'…I apologize for that, but they said I was a 'high level threat' and continued to fire at me despite my warning. And anyway, they annoyed me." Walking in at a leisurely pace, Chase carelessly swung the partially dismembered body of what was once a Jack-Bot by his side, it's normally glowing eyes dull and lacking life. A gaping hole in this chest cavity lit up with the occasional spark, though stayed otherwise black.

"Ah! My baby!" Under other circumstances, the boy would have instantly dove to his fallen creation, cooing to it and comforting uselessly, but he remembered what happened the _last _time he'd tried walking. He preferred not to have a repeat incident.

"I'm sure you can make _another_ robot. You seem to have materials galore."

"You were in my lab?" The incredulity was apparent in Jack's voice. _Chase was in my lab. One of the most technologically inept person I've ever met was in my lab, with all my experiments and gear._ His eyes widened dramatically before narrowing to thin slits. "What did you touch?" The venom was clear in his voice, if he walked into his lab to find tigers sharpening their claws on his computer, he was going to kill every single one of the wild-cats and make them into soup.

"I didn't harm anything but this one." The olive skinned man shrugged, dumping the heavy piece of scrap metal onto the floor with a loud thump, obviously not caring about the deep dent now in the once pristine floor.

"Careful with that!" Deciding he didn't like staying in one place, but realizing that walking was out of the question, he hopped to his fallen 'baby', dropping to his knees to examine the inner workings of the machine. "Geez Chase, what'd you do, impale it with your claws?"

The warrior huffed in annoyance, how dare the boy care more about some stupid hunk of technology than Chase Young? There was no reason an emotionless, unfeeling piece of crap like _that_ should take precedent over _him._

"I'm sorry I happen to like something that doesn't insult me more than you Chase. My bad." The comment caught Chase off guard. How the hell had Spicer been able to…had he made a new device that accomplished mind-reading?

"No, I can't read your mind, nor have I made something that can, the mind isn't something as simple as you think it is, I can't just 'read it'. You seem to forget from time to time that I _am _a boy genius. Now, if it wouldn't put you too much, you mind lugging this down to my lab?" Jack straightened, brushing off the dust that wasn't really there off his shirt, and looked pointedly as if saying, _You broke it, it's your fault, help me or else. I have a lab full of powerful untested weapons, do you want to be my guinea pig_?

Chase paused, how dare a scrawny little _boy_ order him, a man who nearly took over the world, to do _anything_. But the kicked puppy stare he was giving the now nonfunctional contraption made his sigh quietly in defeat. He bent down and hefted the awkward mechanism over his shoulder, gesturing to the wobbly boy.

"Lead the way."


	3. Chapter 3

_Oh dear goodness, I suck. Okay, all my lovely readers, I realize this, and I do oh so dearly apologize. It's just, I don't think my parents were quite…er…ready to discover the joys of yaoi…in my internet history…everywhere…I friggin' swear, the ONE time I don't delete is the day a hacker gets into my facebook, posts porn, giving my parents suspicion, and thus they searched anything and everything…srsly, it happens only to me. So, this is pretty much an emo chapter, I mean, really, Jack is always labeled Goth in all the stories I read, but here he is very close to the point of no return emoness. Will there be beautiful Chack lovin' yet? Prolly not, but I'm getting kinda bored writing liquid depression, so maybe next one. Love you alls!_

Chapter 3

It was odd for Chase to see Jack in his natural environment, one not filled with bright colors and happy faces, but dark shapes and a heavy, dank aura. The usually bumbling, fumbling red-head was at complete ease among his unfeeling machines. He all but danced across the floor littered with scraps and twisted metal that formed claws, long and threatening, jagged, ready and waiting to kill. For some reason, Chase found that the surroundings suited the boy, his white and red body such a contrast to the blacks and grays that made up the room that it was fascinating to watch him prance around with the same vigor of a jovial child, despite the fact that he was in obvious pain, and had a limp that persisted and only seemed to worsen with time spent on his feet.

Though the room was filled lovingly with various sharp instruments and pronged objects that Chase couldn't even guess what their purpose was, it was also overflowing with large masses of junk and trash. Various bottles, both glass and plastic, were strewn across the floor haphazardly, an obstacle course that Jack seemed to have memorized, because he didn't even need to look down to avoid the hazards, not so much as pausing as he stepped over the obstructions.

Jack was gleeful to be back in his lab. It was messy, dark, dank, and had the smell of sweat, must, tears, and blood soaked in from years of heavy lifting and frantic running, of sharp pieces and accidents, of disappointment and trial and error, but it was everything that home wasn't. Which, in his eyes, was a heaven he really didn't believe in all that much, but it was nice thing to dream of. He stroked every metal fragment and smooth plastic that was within arm's length, letting his fingers trail to their tapered points, past the delicate edges, only to continue on to another one of masterpieces. In his machine induced euphoria, Jack's wandering eyes missed the still glowing screen of his computer screen, and maybe it wasn't even so much that he didn't see it, but it was such a commonplace thing for him, it just passed over, with no thought to his unexpected-and slightly unwanted-guest.

Chases eyes flickered to the bright screen, a glaring brilliance in comparison to the dim room. Though the casual glance had been more out of an odd instinct to glare at anything alive, his eyes lingered longer than he'd intended. He scanned the-the-goddamn it what was it called again…c-mail…with an inhuman speed achieved with centuries hunched over aging scrolls in poor light and poorer temper. Chase had heard-far too many times he was sure-of parental abandonment, of children being sold for a loaf of bread, of kin being left in boxes by the side of the road, but he was sure this was even more cruel. Suddenly, Jack's haggard appearance made perfect sense. Chase couldn't help but wonder how many late black bat hours the boy spent staring motionlessly at the screen. If the deep impression in his office chair was any indication, Chase could only guess that it'd been more than a fortnight, possibly more. An absence of tissues lead him to wonder if the child even cried, or maybe he'd just let the salt water form rivers down his face, sliding silently onto the floor to evaporate into the stale air.

The warrior's stillness alarmed Jack. The black serpent was always moving around, subtle shifts from foot to foot done to prepare himself for any impending danger at his flanks. It was a habit that Jack had carefully observed-and documented-long ago. He doubted the idiot monks even noticed how annoying it was, though he supposed with as many people the jerk had pissed off, death threats must have been the norm. Jack guessed the Hay-Lin man had thought only to do it until all the angry pursuers had died out, but evidently the whim had faded into the next enemy, then the next, until it was just second nature. But, as he was beginning to over-analyze again, Jack returned to the issue at hand. He followed the man's lingering gaze to the massive super computer screen. The active computer screen. The computer screen with an e-mail in big, ugly, black letters strewn across the monitor. The computer screen that was practically a declaration of his life's disappointments.

Glowering, the red-head hobbled to the computer and, gripping the edge with one hand while raising a fist high in the air, slammed his closed fists onto the keyboard, feeling a satisfying crunch of the alphabet. Screw careful calculation, and level-headedness, and _thinking._ Psychologists' had no idea what they were talking about; sometimes violence was just too delicious to pass up, too perfect a desire to deny. He lifted the throbbing hand off the sweetly destroyed computer. He shook off small fragments of plastic, brushed off crushed letters, and let the blood flow to the floor, listening to the soft _plip-plip-plip_ as the droplets met the floor, finding the sound more beautiful than the tender _plink_ of water dropping into an already wide pool. Though the screen flickered, and the sick words faded for a second, they remained steady in their taunts. Ripping off his trademark swirly goggles-tearing out crimson strands in the process-he flung them without hesitation, hitting dead center, breaking "Spicer" into black nothingness. Glass rained down, and for a second Jack saw his demonic face reflected a thousand times, hair wild, eyes crazed. The crystal rain finally fell to the floor, shattering like so many hopes and dreams and ringing like the chimes of hundreds of bells. Dusting off his hands, deepening the shallow scrapes that formed ragged cuts on his hands, he turned to continue on his path to his wide work table, leaving a red dotted trail for Chase to follow.

"I really don't need them. I don't think I ever really did, it's more just, they...I didn't think they'd say it so blatantly. That they think I'm such an abomination that they'd want to deny my existence…it just hurts a little you know? Wait, forgot who I was talking to." Jack provided nothing else in the means of an explanation as he finally reached the stand, rubbing the cool, smooth metal, tracing the oil spots that made his fingers slip and glide, blackening the tips ever so slightly.

"Hn. Despite popular belief, I do, in fact, have emotions. I just choose to repress them, to ignore them for the sake of becoming more powerful. They are there, I acknowledge them and accept them as a part of who I am, I bear with them, but I do not act them out with impulsions that would risk my wellbeing." Chase sauntered over to Jack, gracefully navigating the dangerous fallen stars, ignoring the trail of glittering pain Jack had so kindly left for him. Reaching the table, he flung the metallic soldier with dramatically less eloquence, feeling a tendril of dark glee at the way the Jack-Bot crunched unhappily, managing to look uncomfortable in spite of its unchanging facial structure. Jack, in turn, visibly flinched, reaching out his unbloodied hand to stroke the dented metal with all the love of a worried mother.

"Ha. That's hilarious, I would say you were someone who acted most on his emotions." Deciding that he didn't really care that he was contradicting his earlier statement, he dove into the lion's den, armed with no slingshot or arrows, but his wit and sudden valor.

"And what, may I ask, do you mean by that boy?" Chase narrowed his gaze, looking down as far as he could to strategically highlight the fact that he towered, quite visibly, over the rash auburn headed child in front of him.

"Well, you seem totally governed by a whole slew of emotions. You have, hmmm, let's start with your obsession issues."

"'Issues'? It was my understanding that-"

"You're just avoiding the subject, and yes, an unhealthy fixation does fall under the emotion category, as much as you'd love to deny it until you turned blue, which I would think would take a good long time."

"Very well, enlighten me." Chase crossed his arms, his guard completely abandoned, there was no way in all the thirteen hells he was going to let Jack think he was worthy enough to warrant his apprehension. He shifted comfortably onto one foot-a move that would be awkward in battle-still as a statue, retaining all the hubris of a tightly coiled snake, gleaming scales projecting its self-importance cockily.

"Well, this is the easiest one. You wanted-and I'm not completely sure that you've curbed your desire-that little Omi kid. Everywhere he went, oh! You were there. I doubt he took a shit without you knowing about it. And wasn't even a lustful covet. You very nearly approached stalker status, and one of those creepy ones that puts still beating hearts in your mailbox-and yes, it has happened to me before and no, I was never stalking you. I idolized you, I put you on a pedestal that you didn't rightfully deserve, I've seen the error of my ways so no need to get all pissy with me." Jack turned away from one of the most powerful creatures on earth dismissively. He suddenly felt a lot more tired than he should, how many hours of sleep had he gotten? If he just focused on repairs, he'd fall into the usual pattern of sleeplessness and his resiliency would probably return…caffeine would probably help too.

"The only reason I felt inclined to-as you so articulately put it-_stalk_ the young monk was because of the vast potential he possessed. Though now I realize that the bond he shares with his friends is one too unyielding to be tampered with." Chase rose his chin indignantly, he wasn't about to let his temper flare, he'd had too many years of experience to simply lose control like that, but still, he wondered how he'd feel about wiping Jack off the face of the earth. A wisp of a thought flickered his interest, he arched his eyebrow at the shock of red hair that assaulted his senses. "You have an issue with stalkers? I would think you of all people would exalt at the attention." He watched the tender flinch, the tightening of fists. Maybe he'd been too quick to judge, was it really that serious?

"Nothing as pleasant as a heart, but I've received a few other lovely gifts, flowers sprinkled with razors, chocolates laced with aphrodisiacs, firework displays that could set a city on fire, a love profession or two, written by hand in a mysterious red liquid that I wasn't in the mood to identify." Jack leaned forward onto his elbows, briefly resting his abruptly aching head. He couldn't even massage his temples, for fear of staining his ivory flesh crimson.

Chase ran through a couple inquiries in his mind. Obviously there was more to this than Jack was letting on, the way he jumped when he'd asked, was he being harassed? Well, obviously he was, if the Goth boy hadn't been exaggerating about what had been happening. Who was this mysterious person in Jacks already tormented life? And why did the thoughts make something inside him shift and bite at his entrails? The more he thought of someone so much as approaching the delicate doll of a child in front of him made thoughts of homicide swirl dangerously in his head, curling at the long untouched corners of his mind, clawing at something deep within him that'd been left undisturbed for far too long. Within a second of the contemplation, a sneer of ire painted his face. He could have anyone he wanted, why choose a sniveling mousy boy like this? But the words made ice run through his veins. Why?

"Have you considered protection? Body guards?"

Jack threw him a scathing look, then gestured to the mechanical jigsaw puzzle on his table. "A hell of a lot _they _do. Every time I make a new one, guess what happens, just guess. Could it possibly be that they are completely decimated by all the ninja warriors that refuse to cut me any slack? Could be." Jack swabbed his forehead with a dirty sleeve. God, was it just him, or was the rooms air thick? And why were his limbs so goddamn heavy?

"Build better machines, apply your knowledge, _adapt._" Why was he bothering to give him advice? Maybe it was the way he seemed so pitiful. The way his eyes frantically searched for a light that was as dim as his mood.

"Well I'll certainly-" Jack swayed. He had the heartbeat of a crazed rabbit. What was wrong? He could see spots, growing, filling his vision, making it fade like an vintage movie.

Chase watched as the boy grappled with consciousness, and he seemed to be fighting a losing battle. He didn't so much as fall, as he slumped lower and lower until his knees rested on the ground, though his arms remained on the table, a useless support. His head drooped pitifully, overall he looked like a wilted rose. He knelt down to swab a sweaty lock of hair from a flushed forehead. "Jack, can you hear me? Are you okay."

_Is Chase saying something? His lips are moving…wow, he has pretty lips._

"Jack pay attention, you need to tell me what you feel right now. Damn it." Chase clenched his teeth. They'd _just_ got down here and already something had gone wrong. Was it an infection? Was it even possible for someone to get sick so fast? As gently as he could with a good twenty pounds of hard armor jutting and prodding anything in its path, Chase scooped the weakened boy into his arms, trying to hold him as comfortably as he could manage. "Jack, why do you do this? You make people worry too much."

"Sorry…I know, I suck…I…I'm just…" He was so warm. He was so pleasantly surrounded by a tender security, by a being that radiated a soothing serenity that leaked under his skin, numbing him to pain and insecurity. He cracked open a quivering eye to see a dark angel holding him. _Damn it, am I dead? Oh wait, am I allowed to say damn when I die? _Though he really couldn't feel his appendages, he made an attempt to lift an arm, barley succeeding. Lovingly, he touched the midnight hair, surprised by its roughness. Eh, evidently not even angels were perfect.

Chase didn't draw back at the affectionate gesture. Jack wasn't in his right mind, he reminded himself, and if anything it was endearing. Giving the lightest of sighs, Chase once again navigated through the wreckage, a devil dancing through the darkness, an angel in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

_Will the secret stalker show up this chapter? Will Chase realize his white hot fiery passions for Jack? Am I ever going to get to the point? To answer these questions in order, not sure, not sure, probably not. But, for the first one, I highly doubt you guys are gonna guess who it is, if you think you do, submit who you think it is, and if you get it right, you get a super special grand prize…my undying approval…nah, dun worry, I'll think of sumffin'. Oh, and for those of you have any suggestions, drop me a message and I'll consider it. Still adore all of your amazingly inspiring comments, you guys keep me going. Oh, just realized, this chapter is more or less filler, weird, something might happen but…you know. Though it is significantly less painful to read, I didn't even get the urge to slit my wrists while re-reading, that's a win in my eyes._

Chapter 4

"Look, I'm done apologizing, and I've got cushions to soften my delicate melon, so quite hovering already, will you? Makes me feel like I'm under a microscope." Jack twisted the edge of his scratchy comforter with fingers that trembled only slightly, an aftershock of what had just transgressed. Evidently, after careful scrutiny by his reptilian granny, he'd suffered from…something. The golden-eyed warriors exact words were: "On your own, you've all the strength of a half-drowned cat. Obviously two days off your feet has affected you more traumatically than I'd thought. No, get back in bed Jack." Jack had resisted the urge to do a massive, sarcastic eye-roll at that. He knew what being tired did to him, and that was absolutely nothing, and even in his most severe cases of sleep deprivation, all it would do is rim his eyes with a racoonish black. Though besides that little mystery, it was knowing that he couldn't remember a spot of what happened that unsettled him.

"I don't care for apologies that mean nothing, I could give a damn over your 'melon', and I'm not hovering, or do you want to change your wrappings yourself?" Seeing Jack in a state of delusion had been a tad disturbing for the Hay-Lin man. It wasn't just the fact that the red-head seemed to express physical affection with a reckless abandon that rivaled Wu-Ya's attempts, but the sight of the boy bleary eyed, pupils dilated like a happy junkie, head rocking to a tune only he heard, the way he laughed hysterically then shut-down in the matter of two seconds-it was like watching a horrible disease rapidly progress. When he'd finally got the cuddling boy into the bed, his back arched, as if a shock of pain darted through his body-each vertebrate made a sickening crack as his spine contorted into an awkward posture, while Jack clawed at the sheets, laughing like a gleeful child. Really, Chase had had no idea what to do. After contemplating acupuncture, he finally settled on massaging his scalp-something Chase did when one of his cats were ill at ease-until the boy drifted into a light sleep, one filled with low whimpers and high keens. The red head had finally woken up, he sat up, eyes at half mast, rubbed them gently, then jumped a good three inches when he saw Chase, yelling-in a very unmanly manner-"What the hell are _you _still doing here?!" Since then, Jack had been apologizing zealously, both for forcing Chase to bear his meager weight all the way to his room, and for shouting. But mostly for being carried.

"Well, I mean…no not really." In all honesty, Jack didn't want Chase there, he was as annoying as a tick, and rude as the age old warrior that he was, but if the guy was going to be here, Jack really didn't want the two of them killing each other, and when he said "each other" he meant Chase killing him. So he'd play nice for as long as he could stand, and if worse came to worse, he had several conveniently placed trap-doors he could us to escape. As he toyed with the idea, Jack fiddled with the fabric between his fingers a little more, the plush, unused surface soothing at least his physical being, though his emotions were still a pounding tundra. He only stopped when he noticed Chase staring expectantly at him.

"Can I help you? Or are you waiting me to grow another head?"

"Well, Jack, unless you plan on having your clothes bound to your body with the help of a couple yards of wrapping, I suggest you remove your shirt. It might make the process go a little smoother." Chase's eye nearly twitched at the thought of a two headed Jack. Two heads, two brilliant minds, and two smartass mouths. Though two of those adorable lips wouldn't be all that bad of a-WAIT! Where the hell did _that_ come from?!

Jack looked spitefully back at the glowering man, evidently, he wasn't the only one in a snappish mood, though the difference between him and Chase was that Chase could, and most likely would take a literal snap at him. And probably take a hefty percentage of his being with him.

"I don't know, an extra layer or two of protection might help me out in the long run. I mean really, sun-protection, environmental-protection, wu-protection, so far, I'm not seeing a downside to this stuff." Jack made no move to undress and, instead, studied the ceiling with cool calculation, it was such an interesting roof. All white and such, what wasn't there to love? He wasn't letting himself be distracted in order to avoid a rather invasive breech of his personal bubble. Nope.

"And what do you plan on doing about baths?"

"In Victorian times, people got along just fine with annual bathing. And anyway, I could find a way to work around the lil clothy bits." Yup, Jack had a plan, and it was a good one.

"You're not wearing fabric."

Jack rolled his eyes and prodded at his dressings, gently of course, taking precaution not to make contact with his still slightly throbbing body. "I think I know a couple yards of material when I see it. I mean, it's like, the softest, weirdest feeling stuff I've ever felt, but you know, otherwise, standard ace bandages." He rubbed it, as if contact with the cloth made his statement that much more true.

Chase returned the eye roll with his own, a very twentieth century tendency he made an effort to elude, but if the boy was going to be a prick, he was going to be a rude bastard right back at him. "Are we really going to argue this point? Because I swear, when I win, you'll be disturbed on several levels that will leave you untrustworthy of every bandage I offer you." Jack widened his eyes and looked down, examining the material closely, then gasping suddenly when realization hit him smack in the face, never an endearing situation. Chase gave a snort and crossed his arms haughtily. "See, told you."

"It's made of human skin?" He crinkled his nose. That was pretty high on the list of the nastiest things that had ever touched his skin, and some pretty sick stuff managed to slather, drip, and ooze onto his flesh. Though that goop that Wu-Ya put on her face was still his top rated on the ick-factor scale. Hell, at least he knew skin was fairly sterile; there was no telling what the green-eyed witch put in that stuff. Speaking of that witch, he was still kinda pissed off at her…

"No it's not _human_ skin. If it was, it would have the consistency of leather and the smell would be far more prominent, similar to that of beef jerky."

"And as much as I would love to know how you know that interesting little tidbit, what is on my skin Chase?"

"I'm sure you understand that reptiles shed their skin every so often to get rid of dead skin, also to rid imperfections of the scales and body?"

"Well yeah, but what does that have to do with…oh…so I have the skin of a mythical lizard on me?"

"No. You have the dead epidermal tissues of an ancient warrior wrapped around you. It is like you're wearing history, you should feel honored."

Jack's facial features relaxed slightly, but he continued to stare intently at the scaled material. Now that he looked more closely, he could make out the vague shapes of scales and the sickly green that Chase was tinted when he was all lizard-dragoned out. Now he had more reason than ever to slink back into the confines of his lab, the urge to stick this under a high-power microscope was making his scalp tingle with the possibilities. No telling what made this so fucked up. Oh right, _magic._

"And we are still stuck on the current issue, aren't we? I already saw you topless, though you wouldn't remember. Now, take off the shirt or I'll rip it off myself."

Several innuendo's drifted through Jack's head, each one of them completely inappropriate and likely to get him killed, but oh so perfect for the situation…

"Jack!"

Maybe next time.

"Jeez Chase, keep your pants on. I'll strip, okay? And I won't even charge you for it."

Chase was taken aback with the boys boldness. Up to this point, he'd been all doting and admiring like a proper fan-boy. No wait…it started with that stupid showdown…come to think of it, Wu-Ya might need to breathe sometime…eh, she could survive in a highly pressurized metal trunk at the bottom of the ocean for a century or two…

Ever so carefully, Jack peeled away the cotton fabric, though his over-consciousness was pointless, the bandage-skin didn't catch or cling to his top, and it came off cleanly. He made a move to toss it in the corner, when a hand caught it.

"You're not so injured that you can't fold a shirt."

"What are you, my Mo-" Jack cut himself off quickly. "You nitpick like a grandma, I'm planning on washing it, no need for it to look all presentable when it's heading straight for the laundry machine. This is how I've lived for years—"

"And look where that's got you. A damaged psyche, a pitiful excuse for health that deteriorates a little more each day. Would you be content if you were to continue this cycle of self destruction?"

"Why the hell do you care Chase?! Really, I'm dying to know! Before this, I could've died, and you probably would have been relieved. You would've danced on my grave, and laugh at my human frailties. But now, what? You've suddenly grown a conscious? You've seen the error of your ways and are turning over a new leaf to be the better man that you never were? Look Chase, I make mistakes, sometimes I do really stupid things, but I know a little bit about people. They don't just _care _all of a sudden. It isn't in human-dragon-whatever nature, we care about ourselves and our kin, that's it. So why is it that you've decided to break this rule?" Jack wasn't so much mad as he felt frustrated. He didn't know what to think anymore, because everything he thought he knew was beginning to collapse in front of his eyes. The love between a parent and child, the relationship between two formers, a fanboy and idol. What did he have left?

"Why, Jack? Because there are some things that need to be seen to be fully understood. I am not doing this out of need, or because some unseen force dictates it. I suppose curiosity would be the most accurate description of why, though even that wouldn't completely cover it. You've changed so completely from the squeamish person of only last week, it leads me to wonder why." Chase was carefully tugging and pulling away his "bandages", inspecting the damaged skin as he went along. "You're fascinating." He nodded in approval at the healing wounds.

Jack's face reddened the slightest bit. That was the closest thing to a compliment he'd received in a long time, and the last one was, 'Yo dude, your trench is like, the shit' the guy was a bit stoned. He coughed lightly, turning away. No way was he going to show this guy _anything_. No way…not to say that he _did _feel anything…because he didn't…why would he? Nope…dammit…

Chase gave rather rude sniff and covered his sensitive nose with a gloved hand. "If you don't mind Jack, you smell like rot, my skin heals damage, not stench. If you have a bath, I advise you make use of it, and if not, I'll turn a hose on you."

"What a way with words. I see why Wu-Ya fell for you, it's like listening to a poet." Jack stretched, listening to the satisfying cracks and pops of loosening bones, kicked the covers off with the subtle grace of a rhino. He still wasn't sure how he felt about having to spend time with this guy. Half of him wanted to nuclear blast him back to the stone-age, and the other half wanted to stick out his tongue singing 'na-na-nana-na', neither were particularly mature but fuck maturity, he was a teenager, immaturity was what childhood was all about.

_Yes and you have all the cleanliness of a troll. _Chase stood to accommodate Jacks movements, resisted the urge to trip the little brat as he stood shakily. "If you need, I can help you, if you have difficulty walking." Chase blinked. Wait, what? One second he wanted to see the boy flat on his face, the next he wanted to carry him like a newlywed. WAIT, WHAT?! NEWLYWED? Where the hell did _that _come from?! Anyone with poorer control would have begun hyperventilating. Luckily, he was Chase, Zen master, reptile warrior, essentially the epitome of what every man aspired to be. He kept his cool.

"Sure, whatever."

"Huh?" Yeah, cool as a fish.

"Well, my ankle still kinda hurts, and I feel kind of pukish, so yeah. I mean, unless my one hundred ten pounds are too much for you."

Chase glared. Jack looked flippant. Chase picked him up. Jack laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'M SORRY!!! I say that way too often. Look, it's not my fault, grades and school and parents are just evil factors that are constantly bringing me down. I realize how much I suck, and I totally accept it, but I hope you guys still like the story…wow, there was like, zero continuity in that TT-TT Anyway, I've gotten like ten (completely deserved comments, I might add) about how bad I've been…they boil down to "Wow Melon, thou art the most royal of asses". So yes, I've been reading, crying, and singing about all the comments you guys have left, keep 'em commin'…even if I flake forever…with open bar._

Chase couldn't believe that Jack managed to remain completely silent throughout their trip. Even directions were reduced to points and nods and vague waves of the hand. At first, Chase relished the lack of noise, it was a pleasant change from the constant pestering he'd had to put up for too long. Then the eerie silence began to get to him, it was too long, too extended, too unnatural. Finally, it started pissing him off to no end. This was Jack, _Jack,_ how long could he keep it up for? But when they finally reached their destination, the wall of quiet crumbled, though cracked would be more adequate a word. Jack mumbled a monosyllabic response before making his way into the lavish bathroom.

_What do I do? _Chase listened the echo of the door close and the gentle padding of bare feet against a hard floor, the softness of the steps contrasting sharply with the harsh sounds of creaking pipes. He stole a glance to the left, then gave a passing look to the right, before sighing in response to the click of a closing lock.

"If you want something to do, you can wander around and do whatever, I really don't care. Just don't break anything, and don't attack my robots, their deactivation code is TMND-19165. If they ask for verification, it's Jack dash lane, just say it out loud, they'll leave you alone." Jack's sonorous voice rang through the empty hall, the bathroom providing the perfect acoustics to make the words almost being painful to Chase's sensitive ears.

With that, Chase spun on his heel and went on his way, giving a short grunt of confirmation which was answered with the sound of running water. Despite his several day stay within the massive home, Chase had spent most of his time nurturing the near infantile Jack, so he'd had to imagine what the rest of the enormous abode consisted of. His mind had constructed a vivid mental picture where the rooms were filled with scrap metal, and the floors coated with an irremovable layer of grease. The warrior couldn't decide if he'd prefer the boy to be a slob or a perfectionist. Neither extreme seemed to be an adequate category for the little inventor.

The clank of footsteps finally ceased when the warrior reached a (how could he be sure that there wasn't more than one in this massive home) kitchen. It was neat, but homey. Sunlight filtered in through windows that surrounded the room, warming the tiles, and making the temperature balmy and comfortable. Everything was scrubbed clean and in order. Every jar had its place, every towel was folded. Overall, it looked like a picture perfect area. The only thing that seemed out of place was a small bowl of water, and another adjacent bowl filled with…kibble? Bright red letters indicated that it's owner was a 'RUSKA'.

A jingling attracted Chases attention, and he saw a midnight black cat slink deviously through a small flap punctured through a doorway. It glanced at the long haired Hay-Lin, giving his leg a nudge with its body, once again causing the bell around its neck to give a dainty tinkle, mewling as it cuddled the limb, and continued its course. It sat in front of the water bowl, gazing into the tepid pool, then straightening to look at Chase, pointedly sending the message that Chase could either stand and stare, or actually do something.

"Continue." Chase almost felt foolish for responding to the animal's unasked question, a question that the creature would be far too proud to ask. It was almost like he was talking to one of his big-cats, but with them, he was sure that they were listening to him, and that they understood. But Jacks pet was, evidently, comfortable with the human tongue, and bowed its head to lick up the liquid, small droplets collecting on his maw and whiskers, which in turn dropped to the floor. It drank for only a few seconds, relishing in the refreshment, before uncurling from his hunch, shaking its head, then giving itself a quick rinse with his paw and tongue. Finally deciding he was presentable, the feline crept to the counter, leaping on top of it gracefully, soundless in its arrival and dissent. He finally came to rest in front of Chase, regarding the guest quietly, before shifting its gaze to a small bouquet on the table, it uttered a small hiss, flattening its ears as if threatened. Chase expended a hand, which the beast sniffed, before giving its head a pat and his chin a rub, and as the massaging continued, it relaxed until its teeth were no longer bared and the hair on its back was lying flat. The cat, content with this new human who invaded his home, yawned, and leapt down from its perch, to exit out of the same door it had entered.

The man followed, opening the unlocked door (Jack either trusted his security or was a fool) to be greeted by a lush garden. Rows of ripe vegetables tumbled outside the neatly arranged rows they'd meant to grow in, their emerald vines twining around themselves, grasping and holding like lovers. The damp earth was a comforting scent to Chase, one reminiscent of the waterfall pounded stone in his own den.

The cat now lounged among what looked like rosemary, stretching in the leisurely fashion exuded only by felines. Its jaw practically unhinged with a tremor of a yawn, its razor sharp stubs unthreatening in contrast to Chase's own cats. When it regained its composure—washed, stretched again, scratched a flea—it gazed at the warrior with a haughty glint in his slit-pupil eyes, clearly sending the message that he was gracing this extraordinary human with its own remarkable presence. After a short stare-down, it lowered its head to lovingly nuzzle the sun-heated dirt, taking obvious pleasure in the rich soil working its way into his previously spotless fur. His paws kneaded the loam, claws forming parallel rows that burrowed into the moist undersoil.

Watching the animal enjoy itself with the most basic of natural bliss calmed Chase, the high-strung atmosphere sustained by the mechanics and electricity of the Spicer's home. The warrior took a step into the coppice, crouching among the plants. He breathed in the sharp and mellow smells, their gentle wafts mingling around him and soothing him better than any tea or drug could.

Meditation was something Chase had been abstaining from since the beginning of his stay in the large manor. He could feel the careful concentration, that delicate balance of distance and omnipresence he maintained beginning to crack. His emotions, formerly sealed by that careful maintenance of measured breathing and emptying of thoughts, were leaking through the cracks. The frustration of his constant failure—no, not failure, _missteps—_ at world domination, the anger of having a deceased witch constantly chasing after him, and the still unidentifiable feeling that arose when Jack Spicer bumbled his way into Chase's view. That odd sensation of magnificent nausea that prickled his spine and clouded his head of all reasonable thought. It was sickening and breathtaking all at once, and Chase had no desire to find where the damn sentiment lead.

Closing his eyes and inhaling slowly, Chase began the gradual process of ridding his mind of all clutter, letting the gentle breeze of the garden blow out the turmoil within him. _There is no world outside myself. There is only be, the earth I sit on, the air I breath, and Jack._ Chase snapped his eyes open. Had he just thought what he thought he thought? _Damn it. Of all of the lowest scum and highest trash that have offered themselves to me, why is it that this one, this __**boy**__ has to be the one that I…that I…have uncomfortable feelings for._ And for all of his griping and self-harassment, Chase couldn't help but remember the ferocity in the red haired boys eyes, couldn't help but be drawn in by the captivating elegance he managed to maintain in his despair, couldn't help but want to capture that haunting splendor as he danced around his lab with a sinister innocence.

Chase mentally hyperventilated for a couple minutes, the thought of actually harboring feelings of not hate for the child was a very disturbing concept, in fact, it was nearly inconceivable, but Chase could adapt. Like the reptile he almost was, Chase could change, he could adjust to his surroundings and settle into the environment he was in. Some situations just required a bit more time. Okay, some things needed a lot more time to digest, but Chase thought it was within his rights to be adequately dumfounded.

Ten minutes later, his thoughts were collected, his mind was cleared, and his mind was made up. Jack would be his, and his alone. No one would ever dare touch him, stalk him, taunt him, or even think about him without having three hundred pounds of scales and claws tearing at all of their most sensitive of privacies.

_Jack, my Jack, you'd better damn appreciate the twisted god that granted you this blessing._

*~*~*~*

As Chase was having an existential moment, Jack was filling a tub with hot, bubbly, French imported water. The steam was sweet and thick and cleansed his lungs, relaxing his underworked muscles and tickling the tip of his nose. As the air became more dense with condensation, he opened a window, breathing a sigh of contentment as a gentle breeze shyly trickled in, clearing the air and making it more breathable.

Jack was trying very hard not to think about how long Chase would be imposing on him. The thought of an ancient reptilian warrior hovering over his every footstep was beginning to gnaw on the pacifist within him, and making him contemplate several rather violent actions (because a five-three anemic undoubtedly stands a chance against an angry komodo dragon).

Glancing at the steaming liquid undulating in the large, marble, _expensive_ bath, Jack twisted the knob to stop the water flow. If only he had a handy little knob of button for all of his problems. You got a bunch of annoying brats ridding your ass? Give this handle a go, and they'll be flushed down the drain. Evil witch trying to murder you? We got the thing for you, press this button right here and she'll be catapulted right back into the deep, dark hell pit from whence she came. He giggled at the thought of a flailing Wu-Ya twirling rapidly down in a toilet bowl fashion to the center of the earth, before settling down and beginning the luxurious descent into the water.

Goose-flesh broke out of his skin as he made contact with the heat. He shivered as he sank into it, groaning happily as his skin turned a dainty pink—how long had it been since he'd had a good cleaning? Already the healing effects of several gallons of liquid indulgence were beginning to work their magic.

Lowering the back of his hair into the water, he felt the weightlessness and serenity he'd craved for…well, how long had he been around Chase? As the ruby locks dispersed, so did his thoughts. Gone were Wu from his mind. Gone was the terror of rejection. Gone was the feeling of having to live up to expectations.

"God," Jack cooed to the towel at his left "I'm so glad I'm over that guy."


End file.
